I used to subscribe to several weekly magazines, enjoying the 

process of staying informed about the world. Each issue brought excitement, and one particular article caught my attention. It highlighted an essay from a Chinese university entrance exam, lauded as the most brilliant prose since Su Dongpo. The essay went something like this: 

“In the sky, the sun and the moon coexist. While the sun emits light on its own, the moon cannot. Yet, the moon feels a growing urge to shine more brightly. Believing that coming closer to the sun will grant it more light, the moon moves nearer and nearer until it swallows the sun whole. At that moment, all light vanishes, and the world plunges into darkness.” 

In life, some people are like the sun, radiating light from within through their own efforts, while others, like the moon, require the support of others to shine. But must the moon always remain dependent on the sun? Can it never shine on its own? Is it destined to be nothing more than a moon? 

When passing by the mannequins displayed in store windows, I wonder: Do these mannequins play the role of the sun or the moon? Or are they neither, existing only as empty figures dressed in beauty? 

This work questions whether the world imposes limitations, dictating that certain people can never be like the sun. It reflects the sadness of a world where, despite the potential to become something, people remain unable to do so where desires go unfulfilled. At its core, this piece expresses the sorrow of “everything” that feels unattainable, confronting the frustration of societal biases and structural barriers. Through this work, I aim to convey the silent pain of an unfulfilled reality and the emotional weight of unrealized potential.